Jul 30

Jul 30 That Time I Met Jerry Garcia in a Kitchenette in New York City

There are definite advantages to being an older deadhead, not the least of which is being lucky enough to have seen the Grateful Dead during what many would consider to have been their peak. I certainly would, and you can quote me on that.

Yup, $15! Radio City Music Hall Grateful Dead

43 years ago, (wait, what?) when I was a 19 year old college sophomore, the Grateful Dead played an 8-night run at Radio City Music Hall, following a 2-week run at The Warfield in San Francisco (with a 2-night bridge between the coasts at Sanger Hall in New Orleans). It seemed like a grand adventure to drive back and forth two times in one week, 8 hours each way from upstate New York to Manhattan. Five of us ladies crammed our backpacks with some gauzy peasant skirts, genie pants, crystal jewelry, Chinese slippers, cigarettes, snacks and some study materials, along with a healthy dose of Orange Windowpane. We turned my housemate Stephanie’s late 60’s creampuff white Mustang with a red leather interior into a Deadhead clown car, and cassette deck loaded, we jetted down the NYS Thruway for the promised land.

We had become rather skilled at narrowing down which hotel the band would likely be staying in, and then pooling our meager funds, and stealthily filling the room with 6+ deadheads. I swear, I even had a memorable (if not unsuccessful) tryst with a Bobby look-alike in the bathtub of a very over-occupancy hotel room in Philly.. or was it Cleveland?

Radio City Music Hall Jay Blakesberg October 30 1980

In any case, there we were, in New York City, in a fancy boutique hotel around the corner from Radio City Music Hall following the show, eyes as wide as saucers and ready for more adventure. Our little crew of deadhead girls learned that the band were hosting a mini-screening of the Simulcast in their party suite and were allowing a small bunch of deadheads to join them. One of my favorite memories is riding up the elevator to the suite and seeing a couple of older deadhead ladies (they were probably all of 40). I was struck by their west coast vibe: natural beauties, long graying hair, gorgeous flowing clothing, and super mellow countenance. The confidence they had was enviable, from my 19 year-old vantage point. I remember saying to my friend that if I ever made it to that age, I wanted to age as gracefully, and still be seeing the Dead. Little did I know that not only would I get to that age and then some by a couple of decades, but now my friends and I are those elegant older deadheads. Confidence is a life-long process, but I’m still seeing the Dead.

We found our way to the party suite, which ended up being quite unassuming in this older hotel— basically a small kitchenette, a living room, and a bedroom/bathroom. There were about 25 lucky deadheads sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the simulcast of that very night’s show with rapt attention. I peeked into the kitchen, and there, making an extremely rare appearance, was Jerry, leaning against the counter, talking to a couple of folks. I oh-so-casually slipped into the room and made myself very small…only to have Jerry ask if I had a smoke. After lighting up with Jerry, I asked him about my favorite new tune; Althea, which was still considered one of the ‘new’ songs (along with Lost Sailor/St of Circumstance, Alabama Getaway to name a few). The opening chord progression and step down of B-minor> A-major> E major> A-major//, and the poetic and prophetic lyrics just slayed me. I felt a very personal connection to the song, lyrically as well as learning that Althea also meant Rose of Sharon, my namesake. Jerry was charming that night, kindly answering my questions as genuinely as he could, given that Hunter was the lyricist. He made mention of Hunter’s metaphors and allegory, as well as his proclivity to write about unrequited love and the drama between people.. and then segued into answering my friend’s questions about acoustics and sound waves, since she was an audiology major. He was kind, relaxed, and personable. He stood out by the simulcast for a while, nodding and laughing and chain smoking.

As my friend and I reluctantly left the suite to meet our girlfriends, Bobby and Billy were stepping off the elevator to join Jerry and to watch the simulcast. They asked our opinions about the show, really listened to our answers, and encouraged us to come back to the suite later to hang out. We never made it back that night for all the reasons that arise when you’re 19 years old and dumb and don’t have your priorities straight—but man we enjoyed the ride. Stay tuned for the second time I met Jerry and the boys after a Cleveland show (or was it Pittsburgh?).